


Sick

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Illness, Mild Graphic Description of Illness Symptons, Mild Language, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Minor Podrick Payne/Arya Stark, POV First Person, Sick dog, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady gets sick. Sansa breaks down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick

It started last night. Arya and I had been watching a movie at home. Pod was at work and would be by much later. I heard a _hruk hruk_ sound coming from next to the sofa. Then a soft splash as dog vomit hit the carpet. Lady had just thrown up. Arya took her and Nymeria outside while I cleaned it up. I threw up a little myself, it was so gross. At least she hadn’t eaten yet. That would have been much worse. When Ayra brought them back in, I set down their dinner. Nym took to hers like she hadn’t eaten in months, but Lady sniffed it, ate a bite, then wandered back to the living room. Very odd. She’s not as voracious an eater as Nym, but she never turns her nose up at food. I’ll have to take Lady to the vet in the morning. I hoped that mean vet tech isn’t on duty. He always yells and snaps at me, even when I haven’t done anything wrong. I only put up with him because Lady loves him. He must have some good traits though I have yet to see them. Nym has to be put in her crate so that she doesn’t get to Lady’s food for the moment. I decide that now is just as good a time as any to groom Lady. She may be sick, but she should look her best when visiting the vet, and I can clean the vomit out of her fur. Besides, winter has passed and she could do with less fur in the warming weather. I spend the rest of the movie and several episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (Arya’s latest Netflix obsession) cleaning and cutting and brushing Lady’s fur. Pod comes in at some point. She throws up three more times, but I held a bucket under her mouth and that was a lot easier to clean up. She’s looking much better once I’m done. She ate a little more, but mostly drank a lot of water. I put her in a crate separate from Nym, who is now allowed out, though I toss out the uneaten dog food, just in case whatever Lady has is contagious.

It took a while for me to fall asleep. I wake up late, groggy, forgetting Lady needs to go the vet. I’ve had maybe four hours of sleep and am grateful it’s the weekend. It takes me half an hour to fully wake up and remember. I check on her, she seems ok, though it looks like she may have been licking her back leg. The fur looks wet and slightly matted. I sigh, but quickly get ready to go. I take Lady out and let her do her business before I drive. That’s when it happens. She had already peed, and was now doing number two, and it was more of a horror show than anything I’ve ever seen before. There was so much red and completely liquid. I might have screamed, because Arya came running out, Pod’s right behind her, asking what was wrong. I just pointed, I couldn’t say anything. Arya, so annoying when we were young, but now so dependable in a crisis. I tend to freak out good and proper before I can process and take action, but she’s all action. She lays a towel down in the back of our car and has me sit on one side. She puts Lady on the other side, so she can lay down and rest her head on my lap. I feel like I’m in a haze at the moment, and the next thing I know, we’re at the vet. Arya has to get back to the apartment, she had work in two hours, but tells me to call Pod once I’m done here and he’ll come pick me up. She hands me the emergency fund debit card, the one we keep for when the dogs need medical attention. I had just made a deposit on Thursday to it, it should have more than enough. I manage to check in and take a seat. I sit away from any of the other pets as much as possible. Lady would not want to be patient zero.

I'm feeling sick now. Not because I'm sick, but because my baby is sick. My furry, four-legged baby. And I have no idea what is wrong with her. Hopefully the vet will have an answer. I can't stop crying, but I try to be strong for Lady. I wipe away the tears that do fall, and attempt to hold back the rest.

Lady Jonquil Stark, 80-something lbs, 26 inches tall (she's still the shortest of her siblings), a gradient of light to dark grey fur, loves her mommy and is an excellent traveling companion. She can sit, stay, and sometimes do a lie down, but only if you tug on her collar a bit. She is somewhere between 8 and 9 years old, a senior citizen of the doggie world though she still looks young and spritely. She has dry skin and a penchant for barking (just one warning bark) at everything except puppies. She's really a good little dog, even if she’s not really that little. She likes to snuggle and sleep. A lot.

She's a month overdue for her yearly vaccinations. I just haven't had time. I'm scared. So very scared. Is it because I lapsed? Is this my fault? Then I start to ask other questions. Is she going to die? Neither my sister nor I have seen these symptoms before. Pod hadn’t either. He's had more dogs in his life than we've had. Lady is my first dog, really. Fishstick was my mom's dog, and she was the one that took care of him in situations like this, though I don't recall Fishstick ever having a situation even close to this. Fishstick. What a strange name for a dog. I think Bran named him. He would have been three at the time. Might have been Arya though. She did go through that phase where she only wanted to eat fishsticks and macaroni pasta.

I'm trying to keep calm, waiting here in the vet's lobby and have fallen back on the habit of writing it out, typing into my notes app on my phone, my old standby. Not the phone bit. The writing bit. It helps me focus, helps me stay calm. Lady is calm. She's such a good little, yet not so little, dog like that. Is she going to die? Another pet parent, a man with golden hair, is sitting on the bench next to me, mostly silent. He and his masculine wife with eyes like sapphires have brought in their kitty, who wears a cone of shame. Poor kitty. The man sees Lady’s bottom. The blood is matting the fur. He gives me a sad smile. He reaches down to pet Lady's head every so often. She likes that. Lady sniffs at the floor, the vending machine, where another dog probably peed at some point. She doesn't attempt to cover it when her own scent. She's a good girl. I can hear the other pet owners and the various cats and dogs from where I sit behind a screen. Sort of like a quarantine area, but not really. I feel it is best to keep her separated from the other pets, just in case. Did I already mention that? Even the golden man and the sapphire woman are kept at a distance. I can hear the vet techs laughing and banter with each other. It feels like they are a world away.

In the examination room now. The vet tech helping us, taking preliminary stats, is nice. He looks familiar. Lommy, his name tag says. He might be one of Arya’s friends. She has so many. The vet comes in, a short dark haired woman with a heavy accent, Lorathi? maybe, and starts examining more thoroughly. Lady moves like she's about to vomit again, but she doesn't. The vet listens with her stethoscope, she's very nice, too. She starts talking about blood tests and pancreatitis ??? More scared now. They take her to the back for the tests. The mean vet tech carries her. I didn’t even notice he was in the room. My eyes hurt from all the crying. She looks so small in his arms. Why didn't they draw blood here, in the room that smells of medicine and sickness and an attempt to cover it with floral spray? They usually draw it right here in front of me. I feel the panic begin to build again.

The mean vet tech brings Lady back. He’s not as mean as usual. His voice is soft, or as soft as it can be since he sounds like he smokes a pack a day though it probably has more to do with his facial scars that cover half his face from the crown of his head to the base of his neck, and explains why she’s wet and has a towel wrapped around her. They bathed her dirty bottom in order to be able take some samples. Right. They told me that when they took her back there in the first place. How did I forget about that so quickly? He asks me if I’m alright. He never asks that. I guess I look worse than I thought. I think I nod, because he leaves soon after that.

Lady is sitting on the exam table, looking stoic and majestic as fuck. With bits of dried vomit in her fur. She's not letting that stop her. Or she's already forgotten about that. She's breathing hard, like she's about to vomit again, but she doesn't. She's had enough majestic sitting. Now she lies down and sighs, still breathing hard. Not fast, but like she might be about to hyperventilate or something. She's startled by someone walking past the window. Most of the staff is leaving, as it is technically after hours now. This is the only vet in town open on Saturdays, and only until noon, but they'll still see you if you get there at 11:58am. It’s now 1:28pm. Exactly one hour and thirty minutes since I arrived.

I stopped crying for the moment.

The vet returns with the test results. Pancreatitis. Definitely pancreatitis. What the hell is that anyway? My head hurts and I could really use a drink, water, rum, either would be nice right now. The vet is talking about what can be done, "aggressive fluid treatment". She's dehydrated from it, from the vomiting. Her tummy is tender, too. Not sure how that is related, but it is relevant. Antibiotics. Hospital stay. Two days. Three days max. Fuck. She's my baby. She was the first of my pack. I'm supposed to protect her. Keep her safe. How did this happen? She snuggles me and watches movies with me. She listens to me and keeps me company on long trips. I stay in crappy motels that allow dogs just so she can come too. She can't be sick! She can't be in pain! She's the good one. She can sit and stay and sometimes do a lie down. She's the good one. The GOOD one. Let me be sick in her stead, please. Why her? She's the GOOD ONE, damnit!! Shitface motherfucking whoreson!! This isn’t fair!!! She was so little and fragile...the smallest of the litter...the one who made me a better person. She brought me out of my shell. My prissy, hoity toity, little, furry baby.

I handed over the emergency debit card. I signed a receipt. Lommy, the nice vet, tech takes her away. She looks at me with such sad eyes. I’m so sorry, Lady. The mean vet tech, Sandor, he leads me to the front door. Everyone else is gone. I’m the last...customer? Patron? Pet parent? Definitely not a patient. The last of the people who don’t work there.

“She’ll be fine,” he said in that raspy voice of his. “Dr. Shae will take good care of her. She’s an excellent doctor.” He pushes me out the door, not ungently, but firmly. “You’ll receive updates daily. She’ll be fine.” I can’t tell if he’s being patronizing or sincere and I want to punch him in his face either way. Don’t. Just don’t. He shuts the door behind me and I hear the bolt slide into place. Right, last one out.

There’s a park across the street and I find myself walking towards it. Whenever I bring Lady to the vet for routine checkups and her monthly baths, I bring her here afterwards as a reward for being good. Being good. What has that ever brought us? I find the gazebo Lady likes to nap in. She loves a good nap. I usually bring a book. The gazebo is far away from the main park area, and faces the street. Lady likes to watch the cars as she dozes off. Such a good girl. Never chases them, but she loves to watch them. Her favorite movies usually have a car chase scene. I sit on the bench in the gazebo and tuck my legs up under me. We should be watching a movie right now, not be separated. The tears fall freely now, and more than one sob escapes my throat. I let it out, I let it all out. Then there are arms around me. Strong arms. Warm arms. A warm chest. Someone is petting my hair and telling me it will be alright. I cry harder. It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like nothing will be alright ever again. My baby, my little love. I cling to this person. I shouldn’t. I don’t know who it is, but I can’t push away. I need their strength right now. I can feel it pouring into me. I begin to calm down. How long have I been sitting here? How long have I been in this person’s arms? Doesn’t matter. Not really. Lady’s sick and this spot feels safe. He says it’ll be alright. Maybe he’s right. No, he is. Lady will be fine. Dr. Shae is great. She has to be. The vet tech, Sandor, he’s mean but he’s honest. If he says it, then it’s true. I should have remembered that. I should not have wished to punch him in the face. I'll have to apologize.

“Feeling better, little bird?” the person holding me asks. Only one person calls me that, and he’s rubbing slow circles on my back right now. I look up to see him, Sandor, the meanie, the honest, the angry. He’s not angry now though. He looks concerned. I nod and give him a smile, weak though it may be. He seems satisfied with this. “Sometimes you just need to cry it all out.” I’ve never heard a man speak truer words than that. I lean on him again and close my eyes. I’m so tired now. My eyelids are so heavy. I hear muffled talking.

“She’s had a rough day...Lady’s sick...yeah, I’m a veterinary technician at her vet’s office...just fell asleep in the park, probably from the stress...alright, thank you.”

I am being lifted up and carried gently. I try to move, but my limbs are just so heavy. I hear a door opening and I’m set inside. A _click_ of a seatbelt and the door closes. Another door opens and closes as someone settles in next to me. Another click of a seatbelt and an engine starts up. I’m in a car then. Should have probably realized that sooner. The interior smells nice. Slightly of leather, slightly of dog, and just...him. He smells nice. I won’t tell him that though. It sounds weird. I miss the warmth he provided. He’s like a big fuzzy security blanket. That was surprising. I wonder if this means he’ll stop being so mean to me, or if it’s just a lapse because he feels bad I’m a mess over my dog. Lady...I miss you so much already. So tired…

The next thing I know, I’m being lifted into a bed. I have a moment of panic, thinking he took me to _his_ home and I’m in _his_ bed, but I’m able to open my eyes just a bit and I see the familiar surroundings of my room. “There you go, little bird. You can rest now,” I heard murmured in my ear as he lets go of me. He’s being so nice. He’s never this nice. I don’t want it to stop. I think we could actually be friends if he wasn’t such a jerk all the time. I kiss his cheek and whisper a thank you before falling into the welcome embrace of sleep.

When I wake up again, the clock reads 8:05, but the sun is out. I check my phone to see that it’s the next day and I have a new message from last night. I listen to it. Lommy’s voice tells me that Lady is responding well to the IV fluids and they expect her to make a full recovery. I breathe a sigh of relief, a weight has been lifted from my chest and I feel I can breathe again. I make a mental note to remember to ask Arya later if Lommy is her friend. My phone rings as I’m putting it down. The number reads as Tall Trees Animal Clinic. I answer it with a mumbled, “Hullo?” I’m still not very awake. Never been a morning person.

_“Morning. Ms. Stark, this is Sandor from the vet’s office. I’m calling with your update on Lady.”_

I sit up in bed. “How is she?”

 _“She’s making great progress. Dr. Tyrion is on weekend duty, and he is also another excellent doctor. She’s retaining the fluids, has stopped vomiting and is no longer dehydrated. We’re going to try to give her some bland, solid food today.”_ He falls silent, which makes me worry, but then he says, _“I can call you again in the evening, if you want, to give you another update, but by the looks of it, she’ll be ready to go home on Monday.”_

I fall back against the bed. “I would appreciate another update, if it’s not a bother.”

 _“No, no bother. You’re one of the better parents I have to deal-- um, that I have seen and worked with here.”_ I smile a little. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. _“I would have to call you from my own phone, though, not the office phone. Technically, company policy states we can only give one update per day, since we just have so many animals in the hospital section at any given time.”_ Tall Trees is one of the largest animal clinics in the city and the one with the best reputation.

“I understand, and that’s fine. Or,” I can’t believe I’m about to say this to _him_ of all people and maybe I’m pushing my luck on his niceness, “I can meet you at a coffee shop. I would like to buy you a cup of coffee or five, as a thank you for bringing me home yesterday, as well as...um...comforting me.”

 _“I thought I’d at least get an offer for dinner out of that,”_ he says, but he’s laughing so I know he’s joking, though taking him out to dinner seems like a better idea. _"Though I had to call your parents from your phone to find out where you live. Good thing Siri doesn't have voice recognition. Sorry about that though. Wouldn't have done it if I had another choice."_

“It's fine. I will throw in dinner as well,” I say, “I’ll even let you pick the place, but I reserve the right to nix it if it’s too expensive. I _did_ just pay three hundred dollars to your clinic yesterday.” I keep my tone light. Money’s not really an issue, Arya’s emergency fund idea is genius, but I like this banter.

 _“Fine, I SUPPOSE I can pick a decent place that you can afford,”_ he says. Seems he likes the banter, too. _“Just coffee today though. Save the dinner for a night I don’t feel like doing the dishes at home.”_ I laugh at that. Funny how much difference there is when you think your dog is dying to knowing she’ll make a full recovery. Not funny ha ha. Not funny three-eyed teddy bear either. More like, funny I never noticed this before.

“It’s a date then,” I say. “And one future date, to be determined. Call me or text me when you want to meet.” He stutters an _Alright_ and we hang up. A date. With the mean vet tech who turned out to not be as mean as I thought. I wish it hadn’t taken Lady getting sick to find that out though. I can't wait to see my good girl again. Monday cannot come soon enough.


End file.
